


sneak out

by mikasuhdude



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-18 19:47:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18125696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikasuhdude/pseuds/mikasuhdude
Summary: For EM White Day: day two, "Sneaking Out."





	sneak out

A finger traces his jawline, delicately holding his chin with an index and thumb to guide him to her lips.

It’s initially gentle, chaste intention behind the kiss, but when he opens his mouth a little more, pushes a little deeper as his jaw goes slack and she lets out a gentle hum in response, a fire ignites in him. She tastes sweet, tastes like summertime.

Her teeth catch his lower lip and he groans, his lids slowly opening to see a flicker in her teasing eyes. She pulls, tugs at him to send a tremor through his open mouth before she releases, and he’s made dumb to the point where he can only stare at her. Graceful are the legs that straddle him, graceful is the hair that rains down to tickle his cheekbones, graceful are the arms that rest on his shoulders.

They stare at each other for a moment, a slow blink or two exchanged before she crashes into his lips once more. And his hands are ambitious to explore her body, explore the land he knows _so_ well yet keeps getting _lost_ in. His hands roam up and down to feel to the fabric that separates him from her skin, fingers lifting the hem of her blouse to tentatively travel underneath it.

With each sigh Mikasa releases, he grows both selfish and selfless, the desires to both give and take only growing in him. Each kiss she plants on his lips, the way her fingers are knotting up his hair, how she suddenly shivers when his hands ghost the curves of her midriff drive him crazy, keep him crazy. And when he kisses her neck and she gasps “Eren,” the spaces in-between each letter of his name filled with both love and lust, he doubts anything else could ever make him feel _this good_.

She grinds herself against his lap, and his breath catches in his throat as his imagination starts to tease him—naughty, _naughty_  thoughts of how, exactly, he’ll fuck her adding fuel to the fire in his abdomen. But for now, he only watches her, only places kisses along her neck. His lips ghost over the curves of her shoulders as she uses him for pleasure, as she _slowly_ rocks her hips against him back and forth, back and forth.

But she pauses, her hand searching for his to guide his fingers to the hem of her skirt. Together, they ruck up the fabric so it gathers at her hips, and Eren gulps when she places his fingers on the space in-between her legs.

She leans close to coarsely _whisper_ against the curve of his ear _,_ “Touch me.”

He responds through a slow nod of his head, and though he can’t see his movements underneath the pink, pleated skirt, he can see the way Mikasa throws her head back, see how her face twists and squeezes to his touch. He only caresses her core, gentle and slowly moving up and down, but her hand finds his again, and she guides his fingers to move in circles.

He’s at a loss for words watching her, watching her grind against both of their hands as she shows him what to do, shows him exactly what she likes. When she looks down at him, _messy_ hair falling in front of her eyes as parted lips utter, “ _please_ ,” Eren lifts her from his lap so her back meets the bed.

His hands are greedy, slipping her skirt and underwear off to throw the garments on the floor. She spreads her legs for him, index finger trapped in-between her teeth as she anticipates what he’ll do next. They exchange a silent conversation, the fire in her eyes quick to spread into his forest greens, and he moves her calves to rest on his shoulders. As he places gentle kisses against her heat, Mikasa's fingers tangle in his hair as she hums.

Eren places one kiss, then a second, then a third…

And then _he’s_ the one coaxing and guiding her arousal as his tongue laps against her core. He’s slow at first, testing the waters of her desire with hesitance, but when she tugs at his hair and he hears her first lament, he’s deep in her waters. Her chest is heaving, and Eren notes the sweat that begins to collect where her legs rest on his shoulders. Her hips begin to sway along to the beat of his tongue, Eren’s hand flat on her stomach as her body tremors and quivers and _squirms_.

His eyes flicker up to see her: brows knitted together as her voice grows into a crescendo, singing, “Yes, yes, yes, _yes_.” It isn’t long before she loses control of her body, spazzes, beads of sweat collected on her stomach as she pants, chest heaving up and down. Eren smirks when he tastes a sweet tang on his tongue.

He places a final kiss against her core, and she whimpers, so, _so_ sensitive. Mikasa lets out one last hum, lifts her legs off of his shoulders and swings them to the side. “C’mere.”

“Hange is probably wondering where—”

She shakes her head at him, lifts an index finger and gestures to repeat, “C’mere.”

Eren only nods his head, slowly inches up to her on the bed, and their lips meet again. She’s messy in the kisses, lazy to unbutton his uniform. His shirt soon meets her skirt on the ground, and she pushes him so Eren’s back is on the bed now. She places kisses down his chest to reach his navel and from his navel to the hem of his pants. Fingers curl around the garment, pulling both trousers and boxers down to expose his length.

She smirks. “Someone’s a little excited.”

And he flushes pink, opens his mouth to defend himself in an attempt to ward off embarrassment, but all that comes out is a curse when her tongue runs up his length and she kisses the tip.

“If anything,” Mikasa speaks lowly, her breath hot against his skin in a way that inspires goosebumps throughout his body, “I’m flattered.”

“Just shut up already,” he breathes, voice hushed to watch the hand that slowly strokes his length up and down, up and down. His eyes bore into her, begging her to stroke him faster or put her mouth on him or _anything_.

“Oh?” She exhales a laugh through her nose, her free hand moving to unbutton her blouse so the fabric loosely rests on her shoulders. “That’s weird.”

She sits up, shrugging off her shirt and throwing it to the ground, a bra the only article of clothing that remains. Bold, she straddles him once more, and Eren gasps when her core just _barely_ brushes against his. She leans over to pause right where their lips touch.

“Thought you liked when I’m verbal.” And she starts grinding against him, Eren’s cheeks flushing a deeper pink as he curses under his breath. “When I,” her brows knitted together, voice a breathless whisper, “say your name.”

He forgets how to speak when he feels her hand grab his length, feels himself slowly slip inside of her. She leaves him with a deep kiss as they sit still before she sits up—before she starts to move up and down, up and down.

His hands are roaming as they stare at each other, digits pulling at the bra that rests on her chest, greedy in seeing all of her, _all_ of her. She shrugs off the fabric, and his mouth is in the shape of a small _o_ as his eyes scan her everything: the thin line on her stomach that accentuates her abdominals, the sweat that trickles down her body like rain to land on and sprout desire in him, the pink buds on her breasts that subtly bounce as she fucks him.

She moves his hands to her waist, raises her hips a little, and encourages him to move with her. And when he sees the lust in her eyes, sees the crinkle in her brow and hears her gently moan “ _Eren_ ,” he’s made feverish, primal, animalistic. She was right: he loved hearing her gasp his name.

He sits up, hands still grabbing her waist as he pulls her up and down, up and down, and he’s rough and hard and her gentle noises only grow. Mikasa is _struggling_ to look into his eyes, her hands settling on his shoulders as he moves and thrusts into her. The world seemed to dissipate whenever they shared these moments—where his skin is littered in pink petals from her fingertips and where she, the woman worth a hundred soldiers and one of humanity’s strongest, is made _weak_ because of _him_.

“Please,” she gasps, “ _please_ don’t sto—”

Her words are halted when he is suddenly much faster. She’s so taken aback, in fact, that Mikasa can only hold her breath, throw her head back and pause for a moment before releasing a loud, drawn-out _“fuck.”_ He’s proud of himself, a little too proud of himself, perhaps. Her hands shift from his shoulders to cup—no, _grab_ his face, pulling him to her lips. Their kisses are lazy and sloppy and _messy_ as he fucks her.

“Mikasa,” his voice is shaky and gravelly. “I’m, I’m about to—”

“Keep going,” she’s struggling to speak as well. “Just _keep going_.”

They’re paused right where their lips barely touch, the duo feeling light-headed and dizzy from inhaling the breathless air the other produces. Her proclamations of his name are driving him _insane_ , and even though he’s so close to his end, he holds it out just a bit longer for her, _her_.

“Eren,” his name tastes saccharine against his mouth. “Eren, Eren, ErenErenEre—”

And they climax together, Mikasa’s fingers tangled in his hair as her forehead is pressed _hard_ against his to gasp, sputter and moan into his lips, and he’s doing the same as he empties himself into her. They sit still for a moment, Mikasa’s eyes squeezed shut as she releases the last of her sounds for Eren to hear.

He places a kiss on the tip of her nose, exhaling a soft chuckle before closing his eyes. “ _Nice_.”

She giggles and brushes sweaty locks of hair behind Eren’s ear as she steadies her breathing.

There’s a beat of silence before his voice comes. “You were right to pull me out of that meeting.”

Mikasa only hums in response, the rosiness of her murmurs endearing to the man who holds her.

The room rests for another measure before he continues. “If the commander comes to kick my ass—”

“Then I’ll tell her we had an important matter to discuss.”

The smirk that digs itself into her lips only encourages Eren to plant a kiss on them, and he lets out a chuckle. “You let me know how _that_ conversation goes.”

“Will do,” she titters before nuzzling herself into his arms.

Eren’s grip tightens around her body to deepen the embrace, and they sit still for what feels like ages. If only he could escape the countless meetings that piled on his schedule, for the idea of taking a few rain checks to spend time with Mikasa proved _much_ preferable.

But for now, he’ll treasure the woman who sits in his arms, watching as a subtle breeze pours through a window to blow wisps of an iridescent night sky around her face: ink, deep chocolate, silver, ink again, then charcoal. Eren chooses to lose himself in the shifting colors Mikasa produces instead of worrying about the lecture Hange was sure to give him.

Hey, maybe she could sneak him out of that meeting too.


End file.
